


awaiting an opportunity to pass

by harperuth



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Road Trips, Self-Discovery, Sort Of, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, all spark nonsense, its about yearning for yourself and someone else and identity and stuff, well space trips but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22823317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: slipstream (verb): follow closely behind another vehicle, travelling in its slipstream and awaiting an opportunity to pass- - -for sevensewerrats in the femslash exchange hosted by the wonderful bex
Relationships: Blackarachnia/Slipstream
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	awaiting an opportunity to pass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrenchcoatRats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrenchcoatRats/gifts).



> AHHHHHH, okay thank you first of all to my prompter for allowing me the most fun opportunity to play in TFA. thank you to bex for hosting this lovely exchange. thank you k and james for looking this over for me.
> 
> title is from the google definition of "slipstream"

"Hey sweetspark!"

She shuddered, not looking back. _Don't look back, don't let them know you heard anything, just keep going_ , her spark memory pulsed at her, _that's how you get out clean_.

"Hey! I'm talkin' ta you!”

A heavy servo closed over her wing and yanked, spinning her around and slamming her back into the wall. She gasped out, "Oh, me?"

The mech growled, treads on his back spinning slowly in irritation. _Tank alt_ , her spark memory whispered, _slower, but quick to anger, good grip, once caught hard to escape_.

"Yes, thank you," She snapped, directed at her spark, the jumbled mess of memories that clamored at her and pushed her into the ridiculous mess she was in right now, but it also served to confuse the Pit out of the mech pinning her wings to wall, "Not you, can I help you?"

"Can I see some identification?" The mech ground out.

Well, pitslag. The problem with onlining on an alien planet as a glitching thread of code stolen out of a progenitor spark and _a shard of the slagging Allspark_ meant that she was a little light in the ID department. Her spark memory pulsed and flashed, giving her several different methods of escape, but very few of them ended with her not being chased in some capacity. Pitslag.

"I don't know, can you?" She snapped as all of the possible escape routes flashed through her processor at the speed of spark light, then, "Frag."

She hadn't meant to say that out loud and the mech was looking increasingly like Blitzwing between the treads and the steaming expression. Wait, who was Blitzwing?

"There you are," A smooth, feminine voice interrupted, sharp, thin clawed digits trailing down the mounts where her ( _his? Their? ugh._ ) nullrays were meant to sit, "Apologies sir, I lost her by the Praxis Hold 'Em tables, and she's never been here before. My ID, of course."

The mech looked a little dumbstruck, but glanced at the holochip and nodded, "Of course, ma'am. Ah, no need to apologize, it was my mistake. I still need to see, uh, hers? Though?"

"Still getting it updated I'm afraid," The femme plastered herself to her side as soon as the mech backed off. She didn't take her optics off him, "We're on our honeymoon. I was assured by Mx. Izugsne that this wouldn't be a problem."

The name caused the mech to lock up, backing up even quicker than before, "Of course! It won't be, not at all, er— just make sure that you stay, um, together."

"Oh, I'm not letting her go further than this anymore," The femme simpered, nuzzling into her neck, fangs prickling at her primary processor energon line. Lovely. But, the mech did leave, apologizing again as he went.

The servos on her arm went from flirting touches to dug in, claws pricking under her plating and threatening to rip into protoform. The femme's voice dipped, dripping in poison, "Now, just who are you? Because this slagged registration frequency is telling me that you're _Starscream_ and I know he's dead."

 _Several times over_ , she thought hysterically, but managed not to say out loud this time. The other problem was, beyond the identification and the several hundred thousand galactic credits burning a hole in her subspace right now, "I don't have a name."

The femme in front of her was _beautiful_ , now that she had the chance to look properly. Gold plating was polished to a burning shine, making her look expensive and dangerous. It perfectly complemented the rest of her coloring and pressed against her like the femme was, she could feel, even through her heavy war plating, how parts of her not quite plating had a slight give to it. It was still hard, armored, but there was an element to it that pinged at her spark memory.

 _Chitin_ , it whispered, _insectoid species. But the plating is mechanoid. Interesting._

Her spark pulsed heavily in it's chamber, "Hi."

Fragging. Smooth.

"Quiet," The femme whispered, her voice once again syrupy sweet, nuzzling into her neck cables, "They have a surveillance suite all over here, and I, for one, have never been much into voyuerism, _sweetie_."

"I do like to tease you," She picked up the game quickly, spark memory whirring and spitting up image after image of hanging off of large mechs, simpering and laughing, avoiding notice as _just another happy couple_. She trailed her digits up the femme's thigh, using her size and reach to her advantage, "Maybe one of these days I'll convince you to indulge me."

The femme gasped, pressing harder into her. She smirked, grazing lips over her helm. The femme shivered, "You are a slippery one, aren't you?"

\- - -

It happened like this.

In the wake of Omega Supreme, Megatron's collapsing space bridge, and her progenitor's lovely beheading, Slip had figured Earth for _not the place to be_ anymore. Breaking atmo wasn’t the easiest thing to do on Earth, their ozone a thick and clinging blanket, but Slip's spark assured her that she was a Decepticon, and they were designed for war, so breaking things was right in her repertoire.

She'd floated through empty space for a while, settled in a half stasis with autopilot pushing her to the nearest outpost, where she'd had the 'Con badges wiped from her wings and acquired passage on the next available transport out. 

Khovodal was a pleasure planet, little more than a large asteroid, aleaformed for massive casinos dotting its entire surface.

Not a bad place for a half decent pickpocket with a pretty smile.

 _Unfortunately_ , her spark memory pulsed at her now, _no time to case, heavy security, identification checkpoints_. All meant that she'd gotten herself on planet, acquired quite a few creds, and been completely unable to get herself off planet.

\- - -

She fell backwards onto the berth of the femme’s private room, way up in one of the glittering towers of the casino. There was a blaster leveled at her (his?) spark in the shutter of an optic. 

"Who. Are. You," She demanded, cycling the blaster up.

"I'm a clone," She snapped, "Starscream's to be specific. Happy?"

"Starscream's alive?" The femme snapped right back, four optics narrowing.

"It seems to be a permanent affliction," She ground her denta together, because wasn't that just the Unicron damned truth. All of them were, seemingly, alive. For better or worse. Starscream's millenia of spark memories were bad enough, but the barest whimper that the Allspark shard tried to impart on occasion left her gasping, processor hissing and glitching while she struggled to control her frame once more.

"Interesting," The femme lowered her weapon, just a little bit, "Do you know who _I_ am?"

"Insectoid," She strained for any further spark memories, but as always, when it was something she actually wanted there was nothing in return, "But also mechanoid. I don't—"

"Close," The femme lowered the weapon completely, winking it back into subspace, "Arachnoid. I'm Blackarachnia."

"Charmed," She relaxed back, enjoying the soft embrace of the berth, "I'm slippery, apparently."

"Cute," Blackarachnia snorted, the sound far less charming than any she had loosed yet, but she found herself enjoying it nonetheless, "Well, new conjunx mine, why are you here?"

She considered Blackarachnia, whether the truth was worth it, or if she should just blast her way out of here and away from Khovodal for good. But her spark memory pulsed hotly, reminding her that they all, like Starscream, were a sucker for deadly mech who was undoubtedly no good for them.

"Frag it," She pulled the credits out of her subspace, surprised as they kept coming. She'd grabbed far more than she'd initially thought.

Blackarachnia gasped, sauntering forward to kneel on the berth, "I just may keep you yet, Slip."

Well, Slip was better than nothing.

\- - -

"Servos," Blackarachnia admonished, plastered against her all over again in a way that was making Slip's core temperature rise. They were managing a very convincing midmorning, pleasure-drunk stumble to the transport bay, Slip's stolen credits tucked safely in her subspace and Blackarachnia's ID and cover story getting them to her shuttle.

"It's a little small," She said as the valet pulled it up to the loading bay they were nuzzled together in, optics tracing obviously over Slip's wings, "But I have a feeling you won't mind the tight quarters, hm?"

Slip started, faceplates heating when she realized her servo had drifted to rest on Blackarachnia's hip, her long digits slipped under the thorax and brushing her aft. Blacharachnia chuckled, the sound throaty and doing nothing to dispel the heat in Slip's faceplates, "Slippery _indeed_."

"We do hope you enjoyed your stay with us," The valet drone parroted.

Blackarachnia gave it a pat, "Thank you, yes. You may tell Mx. Izugsne that xe runs a phenomenal establishment with even better service."

The drone lit up, bowing deeply as they entered the shuttle. It was tight; Slip had to pull her wings in tightly to fit.

Blackarachnia peeled off of her and made for the cockpit, not that it was necessarily a different part of the shuttle. The whole thing was essentially one large room with a berth, navigation, and energon dispenser. They made for the edges of the planetary defenses, and Slip exvented heavily when they were finally beyond them. If she ever returned to Khovodal again it would be too fragging soon.

"This should be fun," Blackarachnia was draped backwards over the pilot's chair, peering at Slip, who felt entirely too large for the space that she was in.

Yeah. Fun.

\- - -

Random Access Memory Dumps.

Something fun and normal apparently when you had processor memory that spanned more than the shutter of an optic. Random access _spark_ memory dumps on the other hand were a completely different matter. Spark memories were impossible to online from. They ran deeper, more intrinsic, _emotional_. 

Add in the Allspark?

Slip spent a lot of time recharging immersed in memories and feelings that were her but not quite. Starscream had a lifetime of memories, and the Allspark had eons of them. They weren’t always...good.

 _smoke and defeat and offlined plating all around. dim optics, the planet was dying its people were nothing but pain pain_ **_pain PAIN_ **

“Hey!” 

Slip onlined, processor spinning and unable to move. She whined, her vocalizer offline and not emitting the sound. Optics online. Optics online. 

Slowly, her optics cycled on, running through the customary interrupted defrag routine. Blackarachnia hovered over her, looking annoyed.

“You recharged sitting up,” She complained, “How am I supposed to use my berth when you’re sitting in it?”

“Your berth, huh?” Slip managed, garbled and staticked though it was.

“ _My_ berth,” Blackarachnia rolled her eyes, “Yes. My ship, my berth.”

Slip didn’t bother to answer, still trying to process the memory dump. Committing spark memory to processor memory was arduous and uncomfortable.

“Move,” Blackarachnia was not hesitant in the least to shove her around. Slip did her best not to move into the contact, “Your turn to make sure we don’t run into anything.”

“Sure,” Slip shuttered her optics, trying to untangle her glitching processes and routines to slow her fans down.

“ _Move_ ,” Blackarachnia humphed, shoving her off the berth completely.

“Al _right,_ ” Slip hissed, making her way to the pilot’s chair. Fragging rude.

\- - -

She wasn’t...right.

She knew. There were parts of her that were poorly scribbled together from Starscream, from Earth, from Lockdown probably, and that was all barring the Allspark that kept her functioning above all else.

She spent cycles on cycles staring into the darkness of space as the shuttle made its way to wherever Blackarachnia wanted next trying to sort out something, _anything_ , that would make her feel like her frame fit her sparks. The knowledge of the Allspark was fleeting, but too close. Starscream was who she was, but _not quite_. It was endlessly frustrating.

“I’m bored,” Blackarachnia announced one day, the silence of the shuttle stifling when they were both online. Slip had discovered that the Allspark not only plagued her recharge, it also kept her from recharging as much as she should have been. Now that the adrenaline crash from escaping Khovodal had finally passed, she and Blackarachnia spent joors on joors online together in the tiny space of the shuttle.

Blackarachnia was small. _Autobot small_ , her spark whispered. But Slip could hit the ceiling if she stood up too straight, she couldn’t spread her wings right.

“Hi Bored, I’m—” The words were out of her vocalizer before she even registered their meaning.

Blackarachnia laughed, a snorting sound that sounded too sudden for it to be anything but real. Slip smiled.

“No, no, please,” Blackarachnia giggled, something more in line with was Slip was sure she thought she was supposed to sound like, “Go on.”

Slip ducked her helm, faceplates heating. How could she? Who was she? A sad facsimile of Starscream? One broken and beaten down in the face of millenia of war, one who could never be without the very particular circumstances of creation? Was she a shard of Allspark? 

Hi Bored, I’m No One.

Hi Bored, I’m Nothing.

Hi Bored, I’m An Abomination.

She was quiet. The silence in the shuttle was stifling once again.

\- - -

Starscream liked big bots that were nothing but trouble.

She imagined a world sometimes where Starscream was an Autobot. Little, and lithe, and towered over by so many, the way he secretly wanted.

(She wondered sometimes, if she was the culmination of all of Starscream’s secrets.)

Slip ruminated on what she liked. If she liked. 

If she was Starscream, was anything she wanted truly hers? 

The infinite blackness reared before her, filling the shuttle’s viewing port in a way that she supposed might be claustrophobic.

 _Nothingness, only air, as far as the sensor could input_ , her spark whispered, _Perfect_.

Flyers loved a lack of obstacles. 

That was something she could cling to. Even in the mysterious amalgamation of memory she was, there was some coding that was universal. Flyer coding. War coding. Femme Coding. Those were unquestionably _hers_. Sometimes those were the only things.

Blackarachnia took a whistling breath behind her. She wondered where they were going.

She supposed, in the end, it didn’t matter.

\- - -

“Etzir Alpha,” Blackarachnia murmured, as they stared out the shuttle viewing port. 

Another aleaformed planet, this one bigger, flashier, and...softer, than Khovodal.

“It’s very…” Slip tilted her helm, unsure of the action, but knowing in her spark it felt right, “Yellow.”

“A honeymoon destination,” Blackarachnia draped herself over the pilot’s chair, and by extension, Slip. She suppressed a shiver, “I figure the act worked well enough last time.”

She extended her arms to fall down Slip’s cockpit and Slip couldn’t suppress the shiver that time at all. She knew, without looking, that Blackarachnia was smirking, “I have a present too.”

“Oh?” Slip managed, through millennia of Starscream’s training, to keep her vocalizer from glitching.

“Shiny and official,” Blackarcahnia breathed, and it was breathing, something different and interesting and Slip wanted nothing more to steal that breath, “Meet Slip.”

The identification holo quivered in Blackarachnia’s grip, held aloft where Slip could see it. That was _her_. The name still...Slip wasn’t sure it fit right, but it was _her_. Her face, her information. Something that wasn’t Starscream.

“Why?” Was all she was able to say.

Blackarachnia shrugged, the motion carefully uncaring, but Slip could tell, could _feel_ , “Easier to getaway.”

The desire to kiss her stole through Slip so strongly it burned.

\- - -

Etzir Alpha was, indeed, a honeymoon planet.

They were greeted at the bay by two organics, faces stretched in what Slip supposed was a smile, but didn’t fit on Etzirian features. Slip burned, Blackarachnia pressed tight to her side again, her fangs flirting with the cabling on Slip’s neck. She wanted to get her servos on the chitin she knew interspersed the armor, but she kept them at respectable positions. One of them had to be.

“Welcome,” One of the organics said in strangely accented Galactic Standard. Their voice clicked over the “cuh” in welcome, “We are so glad to host you.”

“Sli- _ip_ ,” Blackarachnia whined, “Where’s the _room_?”

Slip raised an optic ridge. Apparently she was in charge on this planet. She kept her ridge raised as she regarded the organics, “Well? Accommodations?”

“Of course!” The second organic squeaked, earning a cleverly disguised glare from the first, “Right this way!”

\- - -

“You’re an entire bastard,” Slip hissed, shoving Blackarachnia away once the door to their temporary hab clicked shut.

Blackarachnia laughed, that snorting, surprised sound, looking incredibly pleased with herself. She perused the room, “It’ll be _fun_. Don’t tell me you don’t want to play all Big, Domineering Decepticon for a little bit?”

 _No_ , her spark whispered, _Let me be small, tell me what to do, be in charge_. She choked, her intake stalling halfway through a cycle. Blackarachnia smirked, like she thought she had won. Sure. Slip rolled her optics, however belatedly.

“What’s the game?” She finally sighed, laying across the ridiculously plush berth.

Blackarachnia shrugged, “This and that. Nothing big. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

“Great,” Slip’s optics offlined, her struts and hydraulics melting.

“Predictable,” She thought she heard Blackarachnia mutter, but she was already offline. 

\- - -

Slip onlined halfway through the planet’s night cycle, screaming silently online from another spark memory dump, this time of Blitzwing.

Well, that answered the question of who that was. The memory dump had been little more than flashes of heat and touch and _charge, driving higher and higher, a sneering laughing icy encounter that neither of them particularly wanted but what else was there to do this close to the top_. She shuddered, plating fluttering and resettling, trying to dump the phantom feeling of heat and discomfort. 

Blackarachnia murmured behind her, rolling into the warmth that Slip had left pressed into the berth. Slip stood, servos shaking, crossing the room and sliding the balcony doors open. The air on Etzir Alpha caressed her sensors, a little humid, but pleasant enough. The sky wasn’t quite space-faring black, but a deep umber that wasn’t altogether unappealing.

She leaned forward on the balcony railing, staring up.

Starscream liked mechs. Slip...wasn’t...sure how much they appealed to her. 

That felt monumentous, important. This was something that she felt, deep in her spark, was _hers_. Something that she didn’t necessarily share with Starscream at a base level, but something that she knew was _different_. She liked...femmes. And maybe organics. She was almost _excited_ to see. 

She liked Blackarachnia. 

It felt okay to say to herself, here and now, the burnt umber sky holding no judgement. She wanted to touch Blackarachnia _everywhere_ , wanted to kiss her and understand her and feel that heat that her spark remembered with her.

She wondered, idly, how much of that want was her wanting something different.

\- - -

“Dance with me,” Blackarachnia’s tone sounded different. Slip replayed the words in her processor, but the only thing they registered with was the sound of her surprised laughter, snorting and unrestrained.

The day cycles had been...largely uneventful. Slip pickpocketed, Blackarachnia played her games, they occasionally collaborated, but for the most part Etzir Alpha had felt like a _vacation_ , the experience unfamiliar in Slip’s spark memory.

“Dance?”

Blackarachnia’s optics were guarded, but her posture didn’t change. _She_ _**wants** this_, her traitorous spark memory whispered. Slip cycled her intake, “Yes.”

The music was organic, imprecise and wavering, following a slow syncopated beat. Blackarachnia pulled them on to the dance floor and Slip’s spark skipped a cycle. They pressed close together, warm plating to warm plating, warm plating to warm chitin.

“I used to be like you,” Blackarachnia whispered. Slip didn’t react, kept the rocking rhythm they had adopted up, “I was a mech, and Autobot if you believe it.”

Slip’s spark sang and cycled hard, but for once she didn’t hear what it said.

“But,” Blackarachnia shuddered, “They...left me. And I became _this_.”

 _This_ was loaded with longing, anger, disgust, sadness. Slip slid her servos from the designated safe areas, running her digits along warm and living, _organic_ chitin. She murmured, little more than a breath, “I like this.”

Blackarachnia shuddered. They stayed pressed together as the song warbled on.

\- - -

The cycles continued. 

The credits swelled and gathered between them, and they carefully avoided anymore contact.

Slip wasn’t sure if she was grateful or resentful. She picked another pocket and left it at that.

\- - -

The sky deepened in color in front of Slip’s optics, purples and red streaking across golden yellow, eventually deepening to the dark umber of night. She watched it all impassively.

Blackarachnia settled on the railing next to her. Slip didn’t look, just tried not to recall the feeling of warm chitin under her digits. She kept her optics on the sky.

“They tried to take it,” Blackarachnia said. Slip didn’t move, didn’t vent, just stared up at the sky. Blackarachnia sighed.

“The very last of me,” She whispered, “Until I was nothing but organic.”

Slip shifted, ever so slowly, until they were pressed together.

“It really—” Blackarachnia swallowed, “Really makes you think, y’know? Maybe...maybe living in between ain’t all that bad.”

“I—” Slip cycled her intake, “I’m part of a whole that’s never been whole and I don’t know what parts of me are _me_ or are _him_ and I’m so scared that nothing I do will ever be truly _me_.”

Blackarachnia was quiet. Slip cycled her intake again, and finally turned to face her, “I— I like you, though. And he...didn’t.”

“You don’t feel like him,” Blackarachnia murmured.

The air around them was heavy and Slip felt so off balance and her traitorous spark was fragging quiet for once. She clenched her servos so hard they creaked, staring at Blackarachnia. Neither of them moved, and Slip wondered if it was the cycling of her spark she heard or if Blackarachnia had a heartbeat that was thundering in her audials. 

She turned back to the sky. 

\- - -

Etzir Alpha shrank and vanished behind them, the shuttle feeling all the smaller after cycles out of it. Slip curled as best as she was able in the pilot’s chair, doing her best to ignore the tension that had settled between them. She knew that Blackarachnia was watching her, but she couldn’t— She didn’t know—

At some point she slipped into recharge.

The Allspark memory dump was heavy, entirely enrapturing and...strangely happy for once. She supposed that there must have been a time that Cybertron wasn’t at war. But the memory was flashes of fliers streaking across the sky, nothing like the air maneuvers that Starscream’s spark knew. These were _fun happy play silly, dodge duck twirl, open air, rushing, family, friends, love love love_ **_love_ **

She onlined slowly, as always, but without the terror. It was still uncomfortable, memories that weren’t _hers_ , but they left her aching in an entirely different way. She shuttered her optics and coolant dripped down onto her faceplates.

\- - -

“I don’t like my name,” Slip confessed into the still air of the shuttle. She didn’t look away from the blackness of space yawning before them, “It feels...incomplete.”

Blackarachnia was quiet, and Slip wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t recharging. 

“He didn’t even name us,” She continued, “How slagged is that? We were just cannon fodder, but even the most useless of the Autobot fodder has names.”

She fiddled with the cool transteel of her cockpit, considering, “I wonder if he knew that the Allspark was going to keep us alive too. We don’t...none of us think ahead very well.”

The berth rustled. Slip still didn’t look back, “I want a name that sounds like a flier should. Even— Even after everything, I’m still a flier. That’s _mine_.”

“I used to have a different name,” Blackarachnia said, her voice hushed and scratchy, “You...you can find one that fits you too.”

“Will you help me think of one?” Slip asked before she could stop herself, spark cycling wildly, Allspark shard feeling hot.

“I don’t know a lot of fliers,” Blackarachnia warned.

Slip laughed, and her sparks calmed.

\- - -

The Yeasleon system was three planets making slow revolutions around a pair of binary stars. They’d been hovering just outside of comm range for cycles while Blackarachnia decided what they were doing. 

Slip was slowly being driven out of her processor.

“Please,” She begged, “Just a quick loop around the shuttle. I won’t go anywhere near the system.”

Blackarachnia made a rude noise, and Slip laughed in spite of herself. She stood as straight as she was able in the shuttle and pulled on her Starscream memories, swinging her hips in a way that worked much better on her frame as she stalked towards Blackarachnia.

“How about a trade?” She purred, trailing a digit along Blackarachnia’s waist, ducking her head to better see the widening of four optic, “You have me at a disadvantage though, considering what I’m willing to do for a flight right now.”

Blackarachnia swallowed and the air was suddenly Etzir Alpha heavy around them. Slip exvented, just to invent and let Blackarachnia hit her chemoreceptors. That organic-metallic tang set off a cascade of confusion in her processor, leaving her just a little dazed.

“C’mon sweetspark,” Slip whispered, ducking low enough to bring them to optic level, no matter how silly she felt folded down like this, “Name your price.”

“A kiss,” Blackarachnia whispered. Slip shuddered.

“You let me fly a circuit, then get us on planet, and it’s a deal,” She mustered, nearly shaking with the effort to not kiss her right there and then.

“Deal,” Blackarachnia tore away from her, turning to the viewing port, “Go.”

Slip folded into the tiny airlock, vents shuttering as the pressure left and the outer door opened into space. She pushed herself out, taking a moment in root mode to float, weightless and soundless. 

She could do this.

She transformed and flew.

\- - -

The Haenna were techno-organic, amalgamations like Blackarachnia herself. It kind of explained the hesitation. Slip wondered if this system had been their destination all along.

The air was crisp and coppery, flowing over her chemoreceptors pleasantly. The binary stars ensured it was never really true dark, and she caught more than a few Haennans who were definitely photosynthesizing. It was the smallest planet in the Yeasleon system, but it was pleasant.

Slip felt like she was going to bust out of her plating.

Blackarachnia was flirting on the edges of her awareness, at once too near and too far. She wasn’t running any games, painfully quiet and curious and driving Slip absolutely crazy. The Haennans were wary of her, but seemed just as painfully curious about Blackarachnia. They asked her question after question in softly accented galactic standard, syllables slurring and shushing together pleasantly. 

“Go fly for a bit,” Blackarachnia finally told her, “I’ll ping you when I find somewhere to stay.”

She took a running launch, aiming for the stretching expanse of soft green sky. The copper smell got stronger as she flew higher and higher. Her sparks sang.

\- - -

Maybe she wouldn’t ever be _right_. 

There were always going to be two sparks warring for her memory, his and Theirs. But...maybe she could be content with her frame, her processor. 

Maybe one cycle the random access memory dumps would be hers.

Maybe they would be of Blackarachnia.

\- - -

Slip leaned back against the door to their room as it closed. She offlined her optics, chemoreceptors and sensors picking up Blackarachnia stepping closer and closer to her. She smirked, just a little, “A kiss, huh?”

“You’ve been _avoiding me_ ,” Blackarachnia was pouting. She knew without looking. Blackarachnia had a good mouth for pouting.

“A little,” Slip onlined her optics, sliding down the door so they were the same height.

“It’s enough to give a girl a complex,” Blackarachnia’s optics darted all over her face, wings, frame. Slip’s fans clicked on, a slow, lazy spin.

“Can I touch you?” Slip lifted her servos, letting them hover over Blackarachnia’s hips.

“ _Yes_ ,” She sounded desperate, on edge, relieved.

Slip didn’t bother with pretenses, servos sliding over warm and flexible chitin, fascinated by how _different_ it was.

“What?” Blackarachnia gasped, but Slip used her grip to drag her closer.

“One kiss?” Slip smirked again, digging digits in, dodging Blackarachnia’s move towards her mouth. She stood up straight, walking them back towards the berth.

She flicked her wings back and laid them out on their sides, urging Blackarachnia higher up the berth than she was.

“This isn’t kissing me,” She complained, but Slip ignored her. Now that she had her servos on Blackarachnia she didn’t want to _stop._

“Due time,” She muttered, distracted. She ran her digits over the gold detailing on Blackarachnia’s collar faring, watching her biolights flicker and swirl as she passed over them. The black on her chest was plating too, but Slip skipped past that to press her digits into the chitin that made up her abdominals.

The give wasn’t unlike protoform, but where protoform could relax, unfurl, Blackarachnia’s chitin was solid and _organic_. Slip pressed her lip plates to it, touched with her glossa, unable to help herself.

Blackarachnia gasped, curling in around her head, “Why?”

“I like it,” Slip hummed, blowing air over the cooling oral lubricant, “You feel different...s’good.”

She kissed her way down, marvelling at the feeling. She ran her glossa across the seam where chitin became plating once more. Blackarachnia made a noise Slip couldn’t qualify, “If you run away again right now, I’m leaving you here.”

Slip pressed a kiss over her modesty plating, lifting an orbital ridge. Blackarachnia’s optics shuttered and the paneling transformed away. Slip brushed her valve mesh lightly with her digits, delighted that it was soft and giving like her own, though pressed flat in some places where Slip knew hers swelled outwards. 

(She hadn’t spent all her time alone staring out that viewing port.)

Another delightful surprise was the two blinking anterior nodes, fitful and deep reddish on either side of her valve entrance. Slip ran a digit over one in slow circles.

“ _Ah_ —” Blackarachnia arched, leg trying to come up to snap them closed. Slip caught it and coaxed it over her shoulder.

“I want—” She started, fans clicking higher, before giving up and leaning in to drag the flat of her glossa across Blackarachnia’s valve, digit still rubbing her node.

Blackarachnia’s leg pulled on her shoulder, bringing it over her shoulder. She dragged her nasal ridge over soft mesh, catching on the hooded apex. She stilled her digits and moved to take the opposite node between her lip plates, sucking just enough for Blackarachnia to arch into her, valve relaxing open and the tang of lubricant hitting the air.

“Please,” Blackarachnia whined, “Don’t stop.”

“Mm-mm,” Slip agreed, releasing the node and licking around and over Blackarachnia’s valve entrance, lubricant overwhelming her chemoreceptors. She curled one servo over the thigh flung over her shoulder, marvelling again at how _small_ Blackarachnia was, for all the space she seemed to take up.

Blackarachnia released a sobbing breath, “ _Please_.”

Slip curled her glossa into her valve, ever so slightly, her nasal ridge rubbing at one node while her digits flirted with the other. Blackarachnia shivered, her valve cycling in long slow waves. Slip continued to lick up her lubricant, until she caught a kick to her wing.

She pulled away, looking up at Blackarachnia, who had propped herself up on her elbow and was looking at Slip like she wanted to be annoyed but it was mostly just fond. Blackarachnia rolled her optics, “Don’t look too smug, that charge has been building for _weeks_.”

Slip laughed, letting her grip drop from Blackarachnia’s thigh, sliding up the berth to be at level with her, “Hi.”

Blackarachnia snorted a laugh, “Hi, she says.”

Slip moved forward and kissed her, soft and barely more than a chirr of plating sparking against each other. She pulled back, “There you go. One kiss.”

She laughed and let Blackarachnia tackle her back onto the berth.

\- - -

“Slipstream.”

“Hm?” Slip roused herself from where she had been staring drowsily out the room’s one window, turning to look at Blackarachnia, half draped across her cockpit.

“Your name,” Blackarachnia murmured, “It’s fittingly flier-like. And...I like Slip.”

Slip let the designation roll across her processor, offering it up to Starscream’s spark and the Allspark on instinct. _Slipstream_. Both sparks hummed in contentment, blissfully quiet.

“Slipstream,” She tried out loud. She ducked her helm down to lay a kiss on Blackarachnia’s, “Yeah, I like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me about gay robots on twitter @floralpunkcfb


End file.
